


Doughnuts and Magic

by sariane



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crack, First Kiss, Fluff, Food Porn, Loki you little shit, M/M, Tony Stark Hates Magic, magical mischief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sariane/pseuds/sariane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a run-in with a gorgeous, black-haired, green-eyed server in a doughnut shop, Tony Stark develops a fixation. On doughnuts. (And Steve Rogers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doughnuts and Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sailorcarson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorcarson/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to my friend Carson, who asked me to write something where "Loki shows up and casts a spell on the doughnuts so that whoever eats them can’t stop eating them" with Tony and Steve. :) I hope you like it.
> 
> Warnings: (Please let me know if I've missed anything.)  
> \- Tony is cursed so he develops an obsession with doughnuts, so he makes some decisions and acts against his will to a certain degree. Please proceed with caution.  
> \- Canon typical violence featuring hand-to-hand fighting and various weapons.

The door opens with a blast of freezing wind and snow and carries Tony Stark in with it. He's shivering underneath an expensive overcoat, hat, and sunglasses, but he perks up as soon as he takes a whiff of the air inside the doughnut shop.

"I'll have a large coffee in the largest cup you have. With a shot of espresso. And make it a large," he says with a dazzling smile. The black-haired man behind the counter stares at him for a moment, so Tony dials it down a bit and tugs at his hat.

"Will that be all?" the cashier says in a dry voice.

"Uh, ye – is that jelly? I'll have one of those," Tony says, pointing to one of the doughnuts beneath the glass.

"Name for that?" the man asks with a quirk of his eyebrow, permanent marker poised over the extra-large paper cup.

"Whatever you like, honey," Tony winks, before realizing that the man can’t see it from underneath his sunglasses. Oh, well.

"Mr. Stark?" someone says behind him, and Tony freezes. _Great,_ he thinks, _the one time I tell Happy to wait in the car._

"No flash photography, ladies and gent -- Rogers?" Tony lowers his sunglasses when he realizes that it's Steve Rogers, wrapped up in a coat and scarf with a sketchpad propped on the table in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" Rogers asks, looking him up and down. "I thought you went back to Malibu months ago?" Tony scuffs his foot against the tile floor, annoyed.

"Where'd you read that? The newspapers?" he spits, making Rogers look away sheepishly. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I like coffee," Rogers shrugs, looking up at him. "How's Miss Potts? Have you heard from Dr. Banner lately?"

"Your drink, sir," the bored-sounding cashier says, "is that for here or to go?"

Tony glances from the coffee back to Rogers.

"Uh, what the hell, it's for here," he says, looking down to his phone to text Happy to wait in the car. It's not like he really needs a bodyguard when Rogers is here, anyways.

"Keep the change," he says with a wink as he hands the cashier the first bill he picks out of his wallet and reaches for his coffee.

"Your doughnut," the man says, waving his hand over it with dripping sarcasm as he holds out the plate.

"Um, uh," Tony winces. "Can you…set that down? On the counter? Just, uh –“

The cashier obliges and Tony grabs the plate.

"Thanks," he mutters, turning on his heel with his coffee and doughnut in hand to sit in the empty chair next to Rogers.

"Pepper's in Malibu," he says after he takes a long sip of coffee. "Bruce is in…somewhere. I don't know, haven't been keeping tabs on him," he lies. "Can't you ask one of your superspy SHIELD buddies or something?"

"I'm not really doing much with SHIELD anymore," Rogers admits, his brow furrowing a little. Tony takes a bite out of his doughnut and tilts his head to the side in curiosity. "There were a few…disagreements."

"Jeez, can't you play along with anyone? Or was all of the holographic tech a bit too much for you?"

"I can deal with the tech just fine, Stark," Rogers replied icily. "It's the assholes that tick me off," he glares at Tony significantly.

"You just swore," Tony says, pointing one finger at him. "Captain America just swore. Wow, do you have to go home and rinse your mouth out with soap now?"

"I can swear," Rogers mutters as he flips his sketchbook closed, "I can use a computer, I can work a phone –“

"Aw, does someone have some hurt feelings?" Tony licks a fleck of white doughnut icing off his finger. "Future not living up to your standards? Not the future dad promised back in the day? What was the biggest surprise: same sex marriage, women serving in the military, or the lack of hovercars?”

Rogers shoves his pencils and sketchbook into his bag and stands up, reaching for his cup of coffee.

"Sounds like _I'm_ not the one here who can’t get over the past," Rogers spits back. He turns on his heel and leaves, the door to the doughnut shop tinkling behind him.

"What's his problem?" Tony mutters to himself as he texts Happy that he's done. "It's my job to storm out."

*

It's not snowing when Tony gets the call that Pepper is stopping by Stark Tower to talk business. He has enough time to grab the suitcase suit, but Jarvis informs him that Pepper is in the lobby before he can find his sunglasses.

With a quick, “tell Pepper I’m out for some food,” Tony ducks out the back entrance, hoping that his scarf and hat are enough to hide him from the paparazzi (or teenagers armed with Twitter).

Tony is especially glad that it isn’t snowing when he finishes his first Starbucks coffee while walking up and down the blocks adjacent to Stark Tower, waiting for the all clear. (Someone recognized him when he went inside, damn it.)

The first time he passes the little privately owned coffee shop, he starts when he sees Rogers sitting in the window, sketching away at something. Tony stops and stares for a moment before he remembers himself and continues walking, trying very hard not to mutter under his breath about stuck-up grandpas.

The shop door opens as he passes it and a group of hipsters spill out, carrying with them the wonderful scent of fresh coffee -- and doughnuts. Tony takes an involuntary step forward, wondering if they have crème sticks, before he catches himself and stops. Rogers is still sitting at the window, lifting his eyes from his sketchpad now and again to sketch the block outside. Any moment now, he'll look up and catch sight of Tony.

An elderly lady steps past Tony and opens the door to the shop, releasing the smells again. Tony hops from foot to foot, weighing the risks. There's coffee and doughnuts, but there's also Steve Rogers…

Tony is inside the door before he can stop himself.

"How may I help you?" the young woman at the counter asks.

"Uh," Tony says stupidly, glancing behind him. "I'll have an extra-large Americano. And two doughnuts. One crème and, hmm, do you have any cinnamon?" The barista bags his doughnuts (one for him and one for Pepper if he accidentally runs into her) and holds it out, waiting. When he doesn't take it, she plops it down onto the counter and stares. As he reaches into his wallet for his pockets, she snaps her gum a few times.

"Wait a minute," she mutters, tilting her head to the side. Tony looks downwards as he pulls a few bills out of his wallet. "Aren't you Tony Stark?" she asks, despite his frantic head-shaking.

"Me? No, no, I'm nowhere near as handsome as him," he frowns, shoving the money onto the counter. One of the other baristas sets his coffee at the end of the counter and he dives for it. "Sorry to disappoint," he interrupts her before she can say another word, turning to go.

He bumps right into Steve Rogers instead.

"Oh, fuck," Tony says as he bounces off his very large (and very, very muscular) chest and looks up. "Uh, I'll just be going now," he says quickly, dodging around him and slipping through the door.

"Tony!" he hears Rogers call after him. "Stark!"

"Please don't yell my name in public," Tony mutters under his breath as he runs down the block, shoving through the crowd towards the busy street. Unfortunately, Rogers is a supersoldier, and catches up far too quickly. Tony looks at the suitcase in his hand and wonders if putting it on and flying away would cause a mass panic.

"Stark," Rogers says, stopping behind him. Tony releases an irritated sigh.

"What do you want?" he spits, turning and gesturing wildly with his bag of precious, precious doughnuts. Rogers crosses his arms and looks down at him, making Tony feel very small and very short. He takes a deep breath and subtly – very subtly – brings himself up to his full height.

"I, well, I wanted to apologize," Rogers says, looking very annoyed about it. Tony lets out a snort. "Not for calling you an asshole, because you are –.“

"Ouch, I'm so hurt," Tony holds a hand up to his chest dramatically.

“But I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Sorry about that. Are we good?” A muscle works in Steve’s jaw when Tony doesn’t respond. Tony looks down at his bag and coffee and wonders if they were worth it. (A part of him thinks, _maybe_.) “About what I –.“ Steve starts.

Tony interrupts him quickly. "D'you want a doughnut?” he asks, holding out the bag. "I mean, not the crème stick, it's mine, but there's a cinnamon one."

"Um," Rogers shrugs, "you don't – why are you trying to give me a doughnut?"

"Because you worked with my dad, and I feel sorry for you," Tony says flatly, "because you're not bad looking," he taps his foot against the concrete, "because you're never going to leave me alone until we talk about our feelings or some shit." Rogers crosses his arms and raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Fine," Tony sighs, "because my ex is waiting for me at the Tower and I'm hiding from her. It's either talk to her about my feelings, or you."

"You broke up with Pepper?" Rogers says in surprise. Tony sighs for the millionth time that day and thinks to himself, _this is why robots are so much better than people._

"Why does everyone always think it went _that_ way?" he groans. "Yeah, no, not talking about that right now. Let's go back to that place, or, better yet, some place that's warm and doesn't have paparazzi. Come on, Rogers, let's go."

"I have an apartment," Rogers says, "and you can call me Steve."

*

 _I know a really good doughnut shop on 24th. 12:30 tomorrow?_ Tony texts Steve two weeks later. _Texts._ He's slightly weirded out by that, he'll admit it. But it’s even weirder that he’s been getting coffee with Captain America on a regular basis. He tries not to think about it too much.

 _You wouldn't rather get lunch?_ is the reply that makes Tony roll his eyes.

_Always a critic._

Steve agrees and they meet the next day, Steve with a crepe and some kind of oversweet cappuccino, and Tony with an Espresso and three doughnuts.

"Isn't that a lot?" Steve raises an eyebrow at Tony's plate of doughnuts.

"You're drinking some kind of caramel java vanilla cinnamon macchiato atrocity," Tony replies. "Not allowed to judge."

"You're the one who says I should try new things."

"That's not just me, actually, that's _everyone,"_ Tony uses eenie-meenie-miney-moe to choose which doughnut he'll eat first and ends up with the lemon jelly one.

"Oh, well," Steve takes the first sip of his cappuccino and winces, "Could be worse. Clint's worse."

"Worse? Than me? How so?"

"Do you need a refill or anything?" a pretty waitress with red highlights and a pot of coffee interrupts them, despite the fact that they've just ordered and aren't actually drinking cups of the house coffee like most of the other customers.

"No, thank you," Steve smiles politely. She hesitates.

"Let me know if you need anything," she says, before turning to go.

Tony lets out a low whistle when she's out of earshot.

"Don’t be crude," Steve says with a frown.

"No, I wasn't – you have no idea, do you?" Tony shakes his head. "She was flirting with you."

"What?" Steve turns and looks over to where she's whispering to one of the other waiters. "No, no, she was just being polite –.”

"You honestly can't tell?" Tony finishes off his doughnut and wipes his fingers off on a napkin. "Or maybe it's because everyone flirts with you, so you think it's just how people communicate."

"Don't be ridiculous. Everyone doesn't flirt with me," Steve shakes his head.

"Yes. They do."

"No, they – if everyone's flirted with me, why haven't you?" Steve shoots back. Tony takes a very large bite out of his maple crème stick and winks lavishly. Steve buries his face in his hands.

"Why?" Steve groans into his hands.

"Because you're cuuuute," Tony laughs through a mouthful of doughnut. "C'mon, I understand what it's like to be burdened with being so damn sexy that people can't control – wait, why are you laughing? Stop laughing! God, maybe I am a bad influence."

"Eat your doughnut," Steve smiles.

*

"Well, isn't this nice? Just like old times," Hawkeye says through the comms as the HYDRA goons blow up a car.

"A little too much like old times for comfort," Cap sighs as he throws his shield, downing four men in one go.

"Less talk, more smash," Tony says through the suit, looking up at the Hulk. "It's good to have you back, big guy," he smiles, even though they can't see it through his faceplate.

"Hulk glad to be back," Hulk grunts before he smashes one of HYDRA's octopus-like machines.

"Likewise," Thor smiles as he joins the Hulk in attacking the machine.

Tony turns and sends a few repulsor blasts towards the encroaching enemy, but there are too many for him to keep it up for too long. When one of the remaining machines swoops towards him, he falls back.

"Cap!" he calls, and Rogers turns to him automatically offering up his shield. With practiced precision, he shoots the unibeam and Cap aims it with his SHIELD, taking out most of its legs.

"Oh, shit," Tony swears as the thing begins to tilt towards them on its remaining legs. Cap is already scrambling out of the way, but there's no way he's going to make it in time. "Cap!" he yells again, activating the thrusters in his boots, swooping towards him, and picking him up before taking to the skies.

The machine falls with a great crash, but they're safely out of the way as it hits the ground.

"Thanks," Rogers says, looking at the wreckage below with scrutinizing eyes. "Widow," he says into the comms, "that woman over there, in the center of that ring of HYDRA agents, can you get to her?"

"Viper?" the Black Widow replies with amusement in her voice, "yeah, I can take her." Tony watches as Natasha downs six men in seconds and sprints off to take those guarding Viper.

"Hawkeye, concentrate on taking down the one at the end of the block," Cap continues his commands as Hulk tears off a piece of the machine and Thor brings down a strike of lightning to fry it. "Thor, you and Hulk keep doing what you're doing. Iron Man, let's see what we can do with the other one."

Tony descends and lands in front of the machine.

"Can you do that thing again?" Cap calls to him.

"I don't have enough power," Tony replies as Jarvis informs him that they only have 28% power remaining. "Hey, duck!" he yells as he slices two of the machine's legs in half with lasers. It barely stops it.

"Set me on top," Cap commands suddenly, causing Tony to halt.

"What?" he asks in disbelief, "are you crazy? That thing's so armored--" Cap knocks out three encroaching goons with his shield and punches another one in the face.

"Just do it, Tony!" he shouts, and Tony obeys, scooping him up carefully (he definitely needs more practice at this whole carrying people thing, if it’s going to become a habit) and setting him on top of the machine.

Cap jumps into action almost immediately, fighting to stay upright as the machine moves underneath him, and pulling something from his belt. Tony watches with bated breath as he attaches something to the metal side of the machine. 

"Iron Man, cover me," he says through the comms. Tony turns in midair and lowers himself, blasting the HYDRA goons who try to shoot at Cap. Tony watches in disbelief as Cap pulls a repelling wire out of the device and jumps off the machine at a run, pulling it around the tentacle legs as he falls, winding the wire around it and tripping it up. 

The HYRDA machine falls with a great crash, sending up a cloud of dust and rubble that hits Tony's suit and sends debris into the sky. 

"Cap!" He yells, but there's no answer. 

"Viper's down," Black Widow says through the comms. 

"Looks like we're all clear," Hawkeye adds. "Now, if someone could get me down from here?"

"Cap's down," Ton breathes, landing on the ground and running towards the tangle of legs. "Did anyone see –?”

He breaks off as he steps over a slab of concrete and finds Cap's shield, thrown away in the shockwave. 

"Rogers?" He calls again, jumping onto the pile of rubble, "Ro – oh, Jesus," he hisses through his teeth when he sees Cap lying underneath one of the tentacles, pinned to the ground by its weight. Without a moment's hesitation he runs over and lifts it, allowing Steve to crawl free.

"Thanks," he says hoarsely as he rolls over to stare up at the sky. Steve closes his eyes for a moment.  Tony opens his mouth to speak, but he's interrupted by a very confused, very dirty, and _very_ naked Bruce wandering into the rubble. 

"Can I have some pants before the paparazzi decide it's safe to come out?" He asks sheepishly, looking tired and embarrassed.

Tony laughs and lowers the faceplate. "Sorry, buddy, I got nothing," he starts, but Natasha walks over with a SHIELD issue tracksuit and throws it at Bruce, who smiles at her. 

"Medical will want to take a look at all of you,” she starts, but Tony shakes his head frantically. 

"I don't know about you," he says, "but I could kill for a doughnut right now."

Steve stares at him for a moment, and then, to Tony's surprise, throws his head back and _laughs_.

"Okay," he chuckles, "count me in."

"I have become quite fond of them," Thor admits, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"I'm still up here, y'know," Barton's amused voice crackles through the comms, "but I'd be up for a doughnut, too."

Tony flips up the faceplate and goes to retrieve Barton, dreaming of the delicious doughnut awaiting him.

* 

It's the first thing in the morning, so Tony's on automatic when he rolls out of bed, showers, and heads to the kitchen for a bite of breakfast. He plans to head down to his workshop to try to get back into his routine of not ever waking up first thing in the morning ever again, if he can help it. He has a hangover, but that's nothing unusual – he just tells Jarvis that he'll have a hangover cure smoothie when he gets to the workshop.

He pours himself a cup of coffee and swallows a tiny powdered sugar doughnut before he realizes that the Black Widow is sitting at his kitchen table, eating scrambled eggs and toast with Hawkeye.

"Um," he says, blinking.

"Good morning," Natasha says pleasantly.

"Good?" Clint groans as he takes a huge gulp of his extra-large mug of coffee. "How do you _not_ have a hangover?" He lays his head down on the table.

"I told you not to drink so much," she admonishes.

"Tony, d'you want scrambled eggs? Pancakes?" Steve asks from his right, nudging Tony's arm with his elbow and wielding a spatula. Tony jumps sideways, wondering how the hell he missed Steve, and his coffee slops over the side. "Tony?"

"Sure," he says without thinking, staring at Steve, who's wearing yesterday's crumpled shirt underneath an apron. He thinks back to yesterday's fight, the doughnuts they'd shared, and their trip back to the tower. It's a bit fuzzy from there, but Tony remembers a lot of drinking games. Oh.

He stands protectively in front of the coffee maker as Bruce (wearing one of Tony's shirts) arrives in the kitchen, flanked by Thor.

"Uh," Tony starts as Steve pours a few pancakes onto the pan for them. "We didn't…have a huge drunken orgy or anything last night, did we?"

Clint bursts into muffled laughter from where he's lying on the table.

"No," Bruce shakes his head in amusement. "But you guys were pretty drunk. So, unless the rest of you…”

"No," Steve chuckles, "I made sure everyone got to bed. Their own bed," he adds.

"Their _own_ bed?" Tony repeats in a dead voice. He tilts his head at Steve.

"You invited us to live here," Natasha says with a smirk. “I’m not sure if it’s the drinking or the selective memory at work here.”

Tony's jaw drops, because he doesn't remember that _at all_ (although it was kind of what he was aiming for when he built them all suites). He gapes at all of them in his kitchen, like the most awkward morning after, and wonders what he's gotten himself into.

Someone asks faintly, "has he gone into shock?"

Before he realizes what's happened, Steve picks up one of the little white powdered sugar doughnuts and pops it into Tony's mouth, closing it gently with his thumb.

"Chew," he instructs, and Tony obliges without a second thought, staring at him with widened eyes. "Good," Steve smirks, "you'll catch flies." He pats Tony on the top of the head and turns back to his cooking.

*

Even though they all live together now, Steve still likes going out for coffee once a week if they have enough time. Tony doesn’t argue, just sighs and tuts and pretends that he doesn’t enjoy eating doughnuts and arguing about baseball and _The Walking Dead_ with Steve.

Unfortunately, this also means that it’s doubly hard to avoid Pepper when she’s texting your best friend asking for your whereabouts.

"Dunkin' Donuts? Really?" she sighs as she pulls out a chair at their table, "I thought you said this place gave you hives?"

Tony blanches a little and holds up his strawberry jelly doughnut. "No," he protests, "but _this_ will give _someone_ hives."

Pepper recoils a little from the jelly filling and shakes her head at him in disgust.

"Good afternoon, Captain Rogers," she says politely to Steve.

"Just Steve, please," he says. "Can I buy you a coffee?"

"Well, you'd better stop calling me Miss Potts, then," she smiles. "No, thank you, I'm here for Tony and nothing else."

"Aww, come on, mom, all my friends are here," Tony fake-pouts.

"We're going to have to talk sometime, Tony," she crosses her arms over her chest. "You can't hide from me forever. We have a ton of things to go over – do you know how many points we dropped last week? – and, to top it all off, you invited five people to move into the tower! _Superheroes!_ And you couldn’t _call me_ \--"

"I'm sorry, but I was bonding with the team leader here--"

Steve twists his mouth into a frown. "Don't bring me into this."

"Don't be like that, Tony, this is important," Pepper sighs. "I don't know why – well, I do know why – you’re trying to avoid me, but –.”

"But I guess your company is more important than the safety of the world, when it comes down to it –.“

"My? _My_ company? How much of it is really my company, anyways? How much –.“

"Excuse me," Steve interrupts loudly, spreading his hands out between them. "No offense meant, Miss – Pepper, and I don't mean to pry –.“

"Go ahead," Pepper says through gritted teeth.

Steve glances from her to Tony, "I doubt that any conversation you two have will get past this stage right now."

"I agree wholeheartedly," Tony nods with a grin, offering up a toast with his coffee cup.

"And that, perhaps, we should all get dinner and talk through some things like adults," he glances significantly at Tony, who sets down his coffee indignantly.

"Adults? Why did you look at _me_ when you said adults?"

"Oh, Tony," Pepper mutters, nudging his coffee out of his fingers to take a drink. After a moment, she holds it at arm's length and squints at it. "You know, I was almost expecting this to be spiked."

“Would that really taste good?” Steve makes a face and turns to Tony for the answer. He tilts his head to the side and shrugs.

“If you know how to mix it…”

 Pepper sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose, looking between Steve and Tony. "We're going someplace with martinis, at least."

*

“Tony? What – what the hell are you doing?”

Caught in the act, Tony raises his hands in the air and steps away from the stove to face Steve.

“Um, making doughnuts,” Tony supplies, gesturing to a pile of recently fried doughnuts sitting on a cooling rack on the counter. Steve rubs at his eyes and glances at the clock.

“At four in the morning?” he says, but he sounds more amused than anything else. Tony lowers his hands onto his hips.

“Yeah, and?” Tony says defensively. In confirmation of his suspicions, the corner of Steve’s mouth tilts up in a smile.

“You’re cooking with a vat of boiling oil at four A.M. without adult supervision,” Steve’s expression shifts and he frowns suddenly, staring at the pot that Tony is kind-of trying to hide with his body.

“Technically, it’s 375 degrees,” Tony says before he can stop himself. “And I _am_ an adult.”

“That’s up for debate,” Steve yawns. “As a responsible adult, I cannot allow this behavior to continue unsupervised.”

“Well, then I guess you’ll just have to supervise me,” Tony smirks, “at least, until better candidates present themselves.”

“Yes, I suppose I will,” Steve makes a show of sighing and crosses his arms, leaning back onto one bare foot in front of the stove. Tony allows himself to be distracted for a moment; Steve’s version of pajamas includes a tight t-shirt and sweatpants that show off his rippling muscles.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Steve says suddenly, breaking Tony out of his thoughts for a moment. “Can’t this explode or something? Don’t people die deep-frying turkeys and stuff?”

“I’ve exploded plenty of times, this is nothing,” Tony shrugs, picking up a wooden skewer. He plops a ring-shaped piece of dough into the pot and watches it carefully. “Here, c’mon,” he holds out a skewer for Steve to take.

Steve takes the skewer, their warm fingers brushing together, and looks down at the pot with a confused expression.

“You have to flip it,” Tony says, showing him how to flip the half-fried doughnut. “And, when it’s been in there for long enough, you take it out. Easy as pie, except pie is much more complicated than this.”

“Your idea of complicated is relative,” Steve replies as he skewers the doughnut and sets it on the cooling rack. He takes Tony’s lead and plops a few raw, ring-shaped doughnuts into the oil while Tony heads over to the doughnuts and reaches towards a bowl of red icing. Tony pays particular attention to scattering yellow sprinkles onto the iced doughnut and ignores the feeling of Steve’s stare on the back of his neck.

"Here, try it," he says with forced casualness, turning around and holding the doughnut out towards Steve. “I haven’t tried any of them yet. Well,” he tilts his head to the side as Steve smirks in disbelief, “one. But this is the first iced one. Try it.”

"I don’t know if—.“

"It's just a doughnut. It's probably not going to kill you."

“That actually wasn’t one of my reservations until you said that,” Steve says in good humor, but he holds out his hand. Tony breaks the doughnut in half and hands the larger part to Steve.

“A toast,” Tony suggests, holding up his doughnut half.

“To doughnuts,” Steve says with a smile, bumping his doughnut half against Tony’s. He catches his eye and Tony holds his gaze with his own grin.

“To doughnuts.”

Simultaneously, they take a bite. The doughnut’s not bad for homemade – Tony can tell instantly that he added a little too much flour and resolves to check the proportions on the recipe as soon as – as soon as Steve stops staring down at him with this look in his eye and a strange expression plastered over his face like – oh. _Oh._

“Oh,” Tony says in sudden realization and, without another thought, shifts his weight to the balls of his feet and leans up to kiss Steve.

It’s not as pleasant as he’d like, kissing someone who has just woken up and had a mouthful of doughnut, but it’s Steve, and it’s scarily close to perfect, the way his hand fits into the curve of Steve’s neck and their lips fit together with barely an awkward nose bump. Tony kisses him for as long as he can before he pulls away, rocking back on unsteady feet. He freezes when he catches the look on Steve’s face, a snappy quip dying on his lips.

“Um,” Steve says, visibly shocked. Tony’s brain shuts down and, for some reason, focuses on the image of the crushed remains of Steve’s doughnut in his right hand.

“Oh. Yeah. Right,” Tony says quickly, backing up and trying as hard as he can not to trip over his own feet. “Sorry,” he shakes his head and holds up his hands in surrender, “I misread the situation. I’m sorry, I, uh, my fault. No worries.”

“Tony,” Steve starts, taking a step forward, but Tony shakes his head quickly.

“Turn off the stove when you’re done,” he says as he backs towards the door, “I mean, if you know how.”

“I know how to work a stove,” Steve says suddenly, and Tony nods once.

“’Course you can,” he says, forcing his tone up towards patronizing and his face down into a sneer. “Good luck with that.”

“Tony—“ Steve calls behind him, his voice low and angry, but Tony’s out of the kitchen and down the hallway before he can catch what he’s trying to say.

*

Tony tries hiding, because that’s his first defense. He holes up in his workshop and buries himself in his work, his suit, new stretchy nano-pants for Bruce (fuck Reed Richards, he can do this himself), until it’s just him and his blasting music. Days pass, and he’s running on a few hours’ sleep and running out of things to distract him. He sets to work on one of his cars for no discernible reason, jacking it up so he can roll underneath.

The sounds of the door opening break him out of his forced reverie.

“Go away,” Tony pulls a wrench out and yells over his music. “I’m busy being a genius.”

In response, someone shoves a white cardboard box underneath the car. When Tony reaches for it, it slides back. He huffs and slides out from underneath the car, following the doughnuts and grabbing for the box.

Tony’s on his hands and knees, triumphantly holding a powdered doughnut when he looks up and sees Steve holding the box with an amused expression on his face.

“Oh,” Tony says,  awkwardly shifting back onto his heels. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Steve replies, his smile refusing to fade from his face. “I’m surprised that worked. When was the last time you ate?”

“Uh,” Tony looks down at his doughnut and considers his stomach. “I think yesterday…“

“Besides those smoothies you make,” Steve frowns. He crosses his arms, the box of doughnuts still in his hand.

“You’re really tall,” Tony responds, looking up at him from his spot on the ground. Steve sighs and sits down across from him, leaning against the blue car at his back. Tony hunches over a little and draws his knees tighter to his chest, leaning his back against the red car.

“We should talk,” Steve says, and Tony freezes and shoves the rest of his doughnut into his mouth.

“’Mm ea’in,” Tony says through a mouthful. Powdered sugar tumbles out of his mouth and across his beard. Steve tilts his head to the side slightly, but he doesn’t look disgusted or repulsed, as he should be.

“Tony, we have to talk,” Steve continues with conviction. Tony doesn’t answer, just struggles to swallow his doughnut and reaches for the box once he’s finished. Steve pulls it away and Tony sighs dramatically.

“Fine,” he says once he finishes chewing, his traitor stomach talking. “Fine. Talk. I’m here until these doughnuts run out,” he warns. Steve sighs and slides the box of doughnuts across the floor between them. There are two more inside, so Tony doesn’t waste any time in getting started on the bear claw doughnut. Steve opens his mouth, closes it, and hesitates, giving Tony a chance to think about how terrible an idea this is.

In the silence, Tony starts, “I’m sorry—.“

“Don’t,” Steve interrupts him, holding up a hand. “Don’t apologize. I’m not a fragile, sheltered little flower. I’m okay. You’re okay. No hard feelings.”

“Well, now that’s out of the way,” Tony claps his hands together and leans forward to reach for the next doughnut. Steve pulls the box back, leaving Tony staring at thin air with a frown. “Uh, hey.”

“Tony, we have to talk about this,” Steve says sternly, holding the doughnuts just out of his reach. Tony makes grabby hand motions, but Steve ignores him.

“For someone who keeps saying we need to talk, you’re actually talking very little,” Tony points out sharply. “Now, you promised me another doughnut.” Steve relents, handing him the box.

“I don’t know how to talk about this,” Steve admits. “I don’t…I’m not used to talking.”

“So, don’t,” Tony says cheerfully around a mouthful of glorious glazed doughnut. “We shared some homemade doughnuts, I misinterpreted the situation, tread on a few toes, we got over it, the end.”

Tony moves to sit up and get to his feet, but Steve darts forward and stops him with a hand on his shoulder. Tony freezes in place and leans back against the car. “Okay,” he says, “uh.”

“You didn’t,” Steve says suddenly.

“Didn’t what? Get over it? I’m over it. I’m totally over it,” he babbles.

“Misinterpret the situation,” Steve continues. Tony stops eating and stares at him for a long moment.

“So, uh, _what?_ ” Tony asks in disbelief, remembering the way Steve was staring at him after they toasted with their doughnuts. He sets the remaining half of his doughnut back into the box; there’s no way he can eat any more.

“I was thinking about kissing you,” Steve admits flatly. “I just didn’t expect it to actually happen.” Tony’s surprised, he’d have thought Steve would sound sheepish, or conflicted, or ashamed. But he sounds…well, like Steve always sounds. Confident.

“You were? Huh,” Tony says, his mouth moving of its own accord as he tries to process the information that Steve wanted to kiss, well, _him_ of all people. “Well, that’s…that’s…”

Steve leans forward slightly and then pulls back. “Can I--?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Tony mutters, sitting forward to meet Steve.

Gently, Steve cups Tony’s chin in his hands and tilts his face up to kiss him. It’s slow and sweet and Tony is caught a little off guard by how _cautiously_ Steve kisses him – like he’s kissing something made of glass. Tony just curls his fingers into the fabric of Steve’s shirt and kisses him back, biting his bottom lip to make him stop being so damn _careful_.

“Tony,” Steve gasps as Tony pulls at his short, blonde hair, and Tony laughs.

“God, I’m not going to break,” he mutters , forehead pressed up against Steve’s.

“You sure?” Steve replies, smiling into his cheek, but he doesn’t give Tony any time to reply before he presses him up against the body of the car and kisses the words right out of him. Tony brings his hands down to Steve’s broad shoulders and pulls himself up to straddle Steve, who responds by kissing his way down Tony’s neck. He can’t breathe, can’t think as Steve kisses him again and again, slowly working up Tony’s shirt, his fingers like fire on his waistline. Tony returns the favor, brushing his hand a little more bravely over Steve’s skin, and Steve gasps into his mouth.

“Are we really going to do this here?” Tony says, “or do you wanna talk about – eheh, that tickles, Steve, don’t – or we could move it upstairs, or –“ Tony feels Steve pull back to take a few breaths and think about it.

“We should talk,” Steve says, “but, right now, I just want to—“ he sighs as Tony rolls his hips, and then laughs. “You’re doing that on purpose,” he chuckles.

“Really?” Tony laughs back, then lowers his voice to whisper in Steve’s ear, his beard scratching against Steve’s jaw. “C’mon, let’s – let’s go upstairs. Unless you have a thing for cars.”

“God, Tony,” Steve groans back. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious, honey,” Tony replies breathlessly, curling his hands on Steve’s shoulders and grinding down onto him. “Like, ninety-five percent of the time.”

“We’re going to talk, though?” Steve says, extracting himself just a little and blinking to clear his head. Tony leans his shoulders and head against the metal body of the red car behind him and tries to pay attention. “This isn’t going to be a one-time thing, is it? This isn’t, just, casual?” Tony opens his mouth and closes it, wondering who from SHIELD had the conversation with Captain America about _casual sex_ after he woke up.

“Do you want it to be?” Tony asks, dry-mouthed, because he could be okay with that, yeah, it’s just that—

“No,” Steve shakes his head, honesty in his blown pupils, “I don’t.” Tony takes a long moment to remove himself from the present, from what he _wants_ , and thinks.

“Then we’re going to take it slow,” Tony breathes, forcing himself to relax his grip on Steve’s shoulders. “Okay?” he murmurs, leaning in again.

“Okay,” Steve whispers. Tony closes the gap between them and takes his time kissing Steve gently. He _wants_ , wants Steve like he hasn’t wanted anyone in a long, long time, but, even more, he wants this – slow kissing and taking their time because they’ve got plenty of it.

“We’ve got time,” Tony murmurs when Steve smiles hesitantly at him, like he can’t help it and he’s trying to hold in his grin. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

*

It’s strange, waking up with Steve’s heavy arm pressing down on his rib cage. He’s not quite used to it yet. Tony forces himself to take a deep, steady breath, then shrugs out from under him. He’s already wearing an undershirt, so there’s just a matter of his pants. Tony pauses at the doorway to look back at Steve, his face peaceful and serene in sleep. Tony runs a hand over his face, thinking _You’re getting kind of sickening, Stark, you are so screwed,_ before turning out the door.

Tony crosses his fingers that no one will be in the kitchen this time of the early, early morning, but he’s never had any luck. Clint just hands him the white, green, and red box of Krispy Kreme’s’ doughnuts that’s sitting next to him at the table and raises an eyebrow.

“Work up an appetite?” he says as Tony pours himself a cup of coffee from the pot Clint’s made. “Steve’ll be twice as hungry as you, y’know.”

“Why do you think it’s Steve?” Tony challenges him. Clint snorts.

“Please, the way you two have been?” he takes a sip of his coffee and laughs. “You two are the opposite of subtle. We’ve been wondering for weeks when you’d finally get your act together.”

Tony laughs and grabs another mug for Steve, deciding that the jig is up.

“Is there a betting pool?” he asks. “There better be a betting pool. If not, I will be very disappointed.”

“Come on, Stark,” Clint shakes his head as Tony tries to juggle his two coffees and box of doughnuts. “That’s not a bet anyone would be stupid enough to set money against.”

Tony swallows his laugh as he reenters the hallway, and it feels like a nervous lump in his throat. Coffee and doughnuts in bed. They’ve never – he’s never – Tony’s not sure what rules apply here, what Steve expects. What lines is he pushing that he doesn’t even know about?

“Tony?” Steve says in a sleepy, hoarse voice that Tony is still getting used to. He clears his throat and bites at the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from smiling stupidly at Steve, tangled in the sheets and covers of his bed.

“I come bearing doughnuts and coffee,” he says, “and news from Clint that there isn’t even a betting pool on us, which is a damn shame, if you ask me.”

“I happen to know for a fact that SHIELD – Tony,” Steve says suddenly, his forehead wrinkling, “have you eaten anything except doughnuts in the past few days?”

“There were smoothies,” Tony protests, “and coffee. Some of the most important food groups.” A wicked smirk appears on his face. “Well, unless you –“ Steve covers his eyes with a hand. “Too soon?”

“You’ve got to eat a more balanced diet than that,” Steve says after a few moments, watching Tony tear into a glazed doughnut. “That’s not healthy.”

“They’re just snacks, Steve. They’re convenient.”

“But you’re _always_ eating doughnuts, Tony, ever since I met you you’ve just been eating them.”

“That’s it, then,” Tony raises a finger in the air in a mock-eureka moment. “It’s your fault. That time we, uh, met in the doughnut place, that was the beginning. And everything else is me projecting onto the doughnuts.”

“This isn’t a joke,” Steve says seriously.

“Who’s joking?” Tony smiles warily.

*

Tony, we need to talk.”

Tony freezes in the doorway to his kitchen and stares. His team is seated around the table, as well as Pepper.

“Uh,” he gulps. “Is this an intervention?" He's only half-joking. 

“Yes,” Pepper says seriously. “It’s about the doughnuts.” Tony knows he should feel relieved, but he doesn't. 

“What about the doughnuts?” Tony asks defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. “I like doughnuts. Everybody likes doughnuts.”

“Do you have any idea how many you’ve eaten in the past few months?” Bruce says, raising an eyebrow. “That can’t be healthy. It isn’t healthy.”

“So, I eat a little too much junk food. That’s part of being an American,” he protests, backing up slowly and bumping into Thor, who has risen to guard the door.

“My friend, I must agree with the others. Your obsession with doughnuts has become worrying.”

“Worrying?” Tony laughs in disbelief. “Worrying. Doughnuts. Okay.”

“The other night, I offered you a bottle of vodka for the last doughnut. You took the doughnut,” Natasha says flatly. “There’s a problem.”

Tony thinks about it for a moment. “Oh,” he says. “Okay, but that doesn’t make sense.”

"It is kind of ridiculous," Clint points out. "I mean, a doughnut obsession? That doesn't just _happen_."

"Clint's right," Natasha nods. "This can't be natural. Something's up."

Clint mutters, "That's not what I meant _at all_ ,” but leaves it.

"When did it start?" Steve asks, his brow furrowed in worry. "That time we – remember when we ran into each other that time?" As if Tony could forget. "That's the first time I saw you eating one."

"That's only because I was flirting with the barista guy," Tony sighs.

Steve looks up. "Tony, that was a woman."

"No," Tony protests, "Just because he had a ponytail…"

"She had a pixie cut."

"What if it was another one?”

"No," Steve makes a face like he's trying not to smile, "I remember her giving you a weird look when she tried to hand you the plate. You did this little dance..."

"No!" Tony says firmly, "I remember. He was hot." Pepper makes a sighing noise in the back of her throat. "Long black hair in a ponytail under that hideous green hat, no-bullshit expression, gorgeous green eyes – oh, shit."

"I second that assessment," Thor sighs. "It seems that this is the result of Loki's interference. This is precisely his preferred form of mischief."

The group looks to Tony in silence.

"I said he was ugly, right?" he says quickly. "Hideous."

*

Tony is in the shower when he gets the call to assemble.

“Fuck my life,” he mutters to himself as he rinses the rest of the shampoo out of his hair and tries not to slip on his way out of the shower. He towels off, scrambles into his bedroom for his undersuit, and trips over a pair of Steve’s boots that are lying on the floor.

“What a pig,” he grumbles hypocritically as he slips on the wristlets. “Jarvis!”

Tony holds out his arms and the suit latches onto him, cocooning him and snapping into place. As his faceplate slides into place, he activates the HUD and patches directly into the comms of the team.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” he asks as casually as possible as he throws open the window and jumps out. He knows Steve hates it when he ignores professionalism over the comms.

“It’s Loki,” Natasha replies, “and a bunch of big blue guys.”

“Frost giants,” Thor explains, “Loki’s people.”

“Tony, where are you?” Steve asks. Tony winces when he hears the sounds of something crashing in the background and Steve being knocked into the ground filter through the comms.

“On my way, Cap,” he says, “you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve says, sounding winded.

“ETA thirty seconds,” Jarvis informs Tony, and he flies over the city with his heart in his mouth. A lot can happen in thirty seconds. He keeps the team’s comms open and speeds off into the skies.

“Hey, Loki’s heading my way,” Hawkeye says, “permission to kick his ass?”

“Clint—“ Natasha starts, but Thor interrupts her.

“I must face my brother,” Thor says solemnly. Tony watches as a strike of lightning comes out of the sky in the distance and hears the comms shriek and crackle under the electrical interference.

“Ow,” Natasha says flatly, “Stark, you’ve got to do something about that.”

“Kinda busy right now,” he says as he approaches their battle.

He instantly spots Thor, Loki, and Hawkeye on top of an apartment building. Hawkeye has an arrow pointed right at Loki, who is…huh, laughing.

“Is this it?” Loki laughs, his voice carrying through the comms. Tony stops in midair a fair distance behind Loki, and pauses. “This is pathetic! Where is your Iron Man? Or have his… _addictions_ created a rift between him and his precious team? See how easily has he become swayed? You will all fall!”

“Uh, what the hell are you talking about?” Tony says suddenly, the robotic tones of the Iron Man suit broadcasting down to the rooftop. He flies closer, holding a repulsor out and aiming it at Loki.

“Stark?” Loki sneers in surprise.

“Yeah, hi, Starbucks,” Tony says, “you have the lamest evil plans ever, you know?”

“You should be mad with hunger,” Loki says, eyes flashing. Tony hands on the roof with a clunk.

“I’m not the mad one here,” Tony says, flexing his fingers, ready to fire. “Now, lift the curse or I’ll blast you to hell.”

“Why don’t we share the honor?” Hawkeye mutters, his bow held taught.

“Undo your magics,” Thor says, stepping forward and placing a heavy hand on Loki’s shoulder. He shrugs it off and steps away. “Brother, undo your spell,” Thor yells angrily.

“I can’t,” Loki smirks.

“Hulk smash green man,” the Hulk says as he jumps onto the room. Tony can hear the cement crack beneath his feet. Loki visibly pales and Tony smirks, even though he’s the only one who can see it.

“Loki,” Thor says sternly.

“Fine,” Loki hisses, raising a hand and waving it in Tony’s direction. He stiffens as a cloud of green magic evaporates around him.

“Tony?” Cap says suddenly, scrambling onto the roof with the Black Widow by his side. “Are you okay?”

“Uh,” Tony says, running through a quick mental checklist. He feels fine. “I think so.” Steve runs over to him.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much are you craving doughnuts right now?” Natasha asks.

“Maybe a three?” he says. “Wait, is ten the most or is one the most? What am I comparing this to? How do you measure cravings, anyways?”

He’s interrupted by a loud yell of, “THAT FUCKER!” from Hawkeye’s direction.

“Goddamn it,” Clint says, scrambling across the rooftop to where Loki has just disappeared. “That bastard.”

“He’ll be back eventually,” Natasha says warily, looking around. “He was here to gloat.”

“Loki has often employed such spells in the past,” Thor says, “It is his idea of amusement. This was not revenge.”

“That was crappy revenge,” Tony says as he flips up his faceplate.

“I’m just glad it wasn’t something more serious,” Steve tears off his cowl, “the Frost Giants disappeared when they saw they’d been beat. Hulk was very convincing.”

“Hulk hungry,” the Hulk says, plopping down on the rooftop.

“Yeah, where are we eating this time?” Clint says, throwing his bow over his shoulder.

“This time?” Tony says as everyone looks at him. “What, have I started a tradition?” He grins.

“I would not object to some pizza,” Thor considers.

“You eat too much pizza,” Natasha shakes her head, “I’m in the mood for some takeout. Orange chicken?”

“Banner vegetarian,” the Hulk grunts.

“We’ll get some of those veggie egg rolls he likes,” Clint shrugs. “I call movie night!” he says cheerfully, which they all know means the first person to shower and get to the couch chooses the movie.

Just then, a SHIELD helicopter touches down on the other side of the roof. Natasha and Clint hop in, and the Hulk gets to his feet. Thor begins to spin his hammer around.

“The last one to arrive is an egg which has expired!” Thor yells before he takes to the skies. The Hulk grunts and bounds off the roof in a single jump. Natasha and Clint motion for Steve to get in, but he waves his hand for them to go when Tony hesitates.

“You okay?” Steve asks once the helicopter has taken to the skies towards Stark – well, he guesses it’s the Avengers’ now – Tower’s helipad.

“Yeah,” Tony breathes, bringing his gaze out of space.

“You don’t have to be okay with it, you know,” Steve says seriously, “Loki cursed you. That’s kind of a big deal.”

“I know,” Tony looks down at Steve. It’s strange to be taller than him. “I’m fine. It’s just…I was thinking…If he hadn’t cursed me, this wouldn’t have happened. We would never have…”

Steve leans up onto his toes and pulls Tony down to kiss him.

“We’re not sending him a thank you card,” he mutters. Tony laughs.

“Come on, or Clint will have us watching _Puella Magi Madoka Magica_ again,” Tony claps his hands together.

“We could always skip the movie,” Steve says slyly as Tony wraps an arm around his waist so they can take off.

Tony smiles.

“I like the way you think,” he says as they take to the skies.


End file.
